


A Place for Christmas

by Anomalous_Duck



Category: Darkiplier - Fandom, Eric Derekson - Fandom, Markiplier Egos, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Caring Darkiplier, Drama, Gen, Mild Abuse, soft, soft dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27896689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anomalous_Duck/pseuds/Anomalous_Duck
Summary: Eric Derekson finds himself a new member of Ego HQ at Christmas(This takes place prior to the events of A Heist with Markiplier)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	A Place for Christmas

Eric sat on the top step of the staircase, staring nervously at the chaotic mess down below. None of the others knew he was even watching them. He supposed he liked it that way.  
Wringing his handkerchief between one hand and the other, he watched the commotion as a glass ball was thrown and shattered against the far side of the room. He flinched involuntarily, his anxiety making every little noise louder than it should have been as raucous laughter from several identical voices rang out.  
“You idiot! That was my face!” One of them yelled.  
“Liar! That was the wall! And the wall isn’t that ugly!” Another replied back.  
“Your face looks just like mine, dumbass!”  
“Bite me!”  
Eric hadn’t learned to tell the difference between all the strange men who constantly talked and yelled and fought and laughed, all day, every day throughout the large complex he’d found himself in. And they all looked like him. But worse, they all looked like his brothers and they reminded him of them too. The teasing, constantly picking fights, the name calling, all of it reminded him of home. A home he’d never see again.  
Eric jerked, fighting back tears and buried his head in his hands. Why was he here?? He didn’t fit in. He wasn’t anything like these others. He didn’t belong here, he didn’t belong anywhere.  
He was a pointless, useless, mindless speck that needed to get out of everyone’s way. That’s what his father always told him at least. And Eric had to admit he was right.  
Wringing the handkerchief harder, Eric whimpered, low enough that no one in the room beneath him heard. He was so scared and so alone. No one understood him, no one wanted to even try and even if they did, Eric would just shut himself down and retreat, too anxious and awkward to let them in.  
He hated himself. He hated the way he was. He hated the thoughts that echoed in his head. Why couldn’t he be more like them?  
Looking at the scene down below hurt him. They were so happy and so outgoing and energetic. Able to be themselves without fear of retribution by a violent father who pushed him harder than he was able to go.  
Eric’s breathing spasmed, his chest constricting into a knot and his heart racing.  
“Not again!” Eric whined. “Pl-please! No! N-not here!”  
Clutching the banister with one hand, Eric clawed at his chest with the other, breathing ragged and heavy in his ears. He had to calm down, but what was calm? He’d never known peace so how could he imagine it in order to get himself there?  
“Dad’s not here.” He told his panicked brain. “These people wouldn’t even allow him in the house. He’s not here. He’s not here. He’s not here.”  
Slowly, the attack faded, his breathing slowed, but the thought was still there in his mind.  
All he wanted was to be ok. To be normal. Was that so much to ask?  
Tears streaming down his face, he rocked himself back and forth, trying to comfort his breaking heart. He felt empty. He felt lost. He felt like he’d felt all his life; useless.  
Eric raised his head, noticing some of the other men had come into view, carrying the overly large, mostly undecorated tree with them.  
“It’ll be better in here.” The one in the lab coat said matter of factly.  
“Doc...” the one in the black tank top whined. “I liked it where it was, man. It looked completely chill in its previous home, dude.”  
Another man in glasses and a blue t-shirt stepped into Eric’s line of sight and glared at the others. “This tree is an inanimate object carrying no thoughts and/or feelings to its current location or situation. All arguing should cease immediately over such trivial and banal subjects.”  
Tank top grinned. “See? Googs agreed it was better where it was.”  
Eric frowned. He’d been trying to catch names all along but what kind of name was that?  
The doctor shook his head, “He didn’t agree, you idiot! He said the tree doesn’t care where it is!”  
“So it can go back where it was?”  
“No!”  
“Wait!” Another man yelled, running up to the tree and looking it over intently. “We have to make sure the sun can hit it so they don’t get too cold.”  
Eric blinked. He thought he had seen all the members of his new household, odd as they were, but he had never before seen this one and he took the cake for strange.  
He seemed to be dressed in normal clothes, but sported a giant red cloak and crown as he ran frantically from one side of the tree to the other, examining it as he did so.  
“King?” Lab coat said. “King, stop. What are you doing?”  
The man stopped and turned, glaring at the doctor. “It can’t go in the other room, Doc. Do you see any sunlight in there? They have to stay here where the sun is. That’s final.”  
Black tank top, Bing, smiled. “Sah dude! You rock!”  
“You do realize you just lost the argument, Bing?” The doctor asked, smirking.  
“No I didn’t! I wanted it in..... the other room.” He finished flatly. “Oh.”  
Eric took his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes. This was so..... odd in a completely normal way. No one seemed to think anything of the men all appearing to be the same, albeit speaking and acting in their own little ways.  
Could he really, maybe, possibly *fit* here?  
Eric almost allowed himself a small smile at that thought until the face of his father drifted before his eyes. “Really boy? You? Fit in??” Derek laughed loudly. “You ain’t never fit in nowhere and that ain’t gonna change. You’re the weirdo, Eric. Nobody likes a weirdo.”  
Eric flinched, sobs choking him as he realized how stupid he’d been to ever consider the possibility of acceptance. Tears dropped from his nose and onto the steps. Pure, almost beautiful droplets hitting the floor at his feet. How could a screwup like him produce something as genuine as a tear? He wasn’t even worthy of the ability to cry.  
His brothers would most likely mock him. His father would probably beat him if he could see him now. He was a failure. A waste of space. A pathetic piece of trash who was taking up valuable room for some being far superior to himself.  
He wanted to run away. He wanted to hide and never be found. But the complex was huge and he didn’t exactly remember which room was his or where it was located and the idea of running into someone in his current state and asking for help terrified him.  
If need be, he’d stay out of sight until dark and then wander the halls until he found his way back under the cover of night. No one would bother him then and he could try to get his bearings for the kitchens and bathrooms as well.  
He’d been here for a day and a half now and no one had approached him about food or drink and he’d been too scared to ask, so he’d done without. It wasn’t the first time.  
On cue, his stomach growled loudly. Hugging himself, Eric checked his watch.  
3:35 in the afternoon, that meant hours until night fell and he could go in search of something edible.  
Wiping away his tears, he found himself drawn back to the tree and the men surrounding it. Something about them made him feel less useless, less inferior.  
Maybe it was because they looked like and reminded him of his brothers, even though his brothers hadn’t ever done much to make him feel better about himself.  
Or maybe, as much as he hated to accept this part, maybe he had taken after his father enough to be slightly egotistical and it was because all the others looked like him.  
Either way, Eric found himself calming down as he watched the doctor and Bing settle their dispute, positioning the tree in front of the large bay window as Bing bounced excitedly out of view, yelling something about “dudes”and it being “ornament time up in this bitch”.  
A new voice echoed out of the room Bing had disappeared into, accent odd and thick to Eric’s ears. “Calm down you skateboarding scalawag! You’ll break them!”  
“Wilford! Shut your pie hole, man!” Bing replied. “I’m not gonna break.....”  
There was a loud crash and the sound of several voices yelling at once, followed by the sound of running feet.  
Bing came rushing into view, covered in glass and glitter, followed closely by a man in pink suspenders and mustache that Eric remembered meeting the day before.  
Waving a gun that Eric hoped was unloaded, Wilford chased Bing down and pressed him to the floor, sitting on his chest to keep him in place .  
“I told you, you scamp, that you were gonna break them and looky here what happened.” He grazed the muzzle of the gun gently along Bing’s face, taunting him. A manic smile played on his lips.  
Bing struggled, pulling against the other man’s hold, but despite the gun, he still looked completely calm.  
“Come on dude! Lemme up! It was....”  
“An accident, I swear.” Wil finished for him. “Maybe a bullet in your servos will make you reconsider the meaning of Christmas.” Eric sank down lower, heart racing as he watched. This was insane! He was terrified the gun would go off at any moment. Surely this man wouldn’t kill someone over ornaments? Would he?  
Wilford laughed in a guffawing way and stood up, reaching down to give Bing his gunless hand and helping him up.  
“Go get the broom, boy. You’re cleaning up your own mess while good ol’ Wilfy packs the ornaments out.”  
He stuck the gun back in the waistband of his pants and stared at Bing. “Well? Go on!”  
Bing huffed, dropping his shoulders like a child. “You suck, dude.”  
“In more ways than one, my robotic ruffian. What can I say?” Wil said proudly, adjusting his suspenders, “It’s an art form”  
Bing looked at him for a moment with an eyebrow raised.  
“Will you two actually get your butts in gear?” A man in a suit and glasses asked impatiently. “I’ve got a show to tape this afternoon and I’d really like to be mentally prepared not mentally drained from decorating this moronic tree.” He paused, staring at the branches in front of him. “Is that a squirrel??”  
King ran in from the other room, arms full of different colored tinsel. “Leave him be! Don’t touch them!”  
The suit man crossed his arms. “Them?!”  
Dropping his load of tinsel on the nearby sofa, King ran to the tree and reached in, gently pulling out a soft brown bundle. “Yes, THEM, Bim. There’s three of my people in here.”  
Eric almost stood up. He loved animals! And there were real life squirrels in that Christmas tree? This was amazing! But he held back, choosing instead to continue watching from a distance. He was sure he wouldn’t be welcome at the decorating party and he wasn’t about to risk the lives of those poor squirrels by imposing himself. Animals rarely survived long around him.  
“You know it’s tradition,” King went on. “Every year, a family gets to be sheltered in the Ego Christmas tree during the holidays. This year, it’s these guys.” He stroked the squirrel’s head gently. “They lost all but one of their babies in an eagle attack and they’re still in shock. Try a little kindness, Bim. It’s Christmas.”  
Wilford laughed again, slapping the other man on the back. Bim frowned and pulled away.  
Bing came back with the broom and dustpan full of broken glass. “Sah, dude. They don’t cause any harm. They’re just hanging out for a bit while they cope, man. How’d you feel if like, your whole family got to be bird food?”  
Bim sneered. “My whole family is you worthless excuses, so yes, Mr. Bing, I’d be fine with that.”  
“Love you too, man.” Bing said.  
“Ugh.”  
Eric sighed. This whole thing was bizarre. These people were some of the weirdest beings he’d ever seen and being a salesman, he’d seen some interesting folks.  
He continued watching unseen as box after box was brought out and opened. Ornaments of every color and design were pulled out, glass balls hand painted with Christmas scenes, string upon string of lights and more still coming.  
Eric’s nose caught the aroma of popcorn coming from the kitchen and three more Egos came out, carrying giant bowls of it.  
One of them was Google and what looked to be his twin only in a yellow shirt instead of blue. The last man, Eric hadn’t seen before, but he wore dark sunglasses and a cowboy hat and spoke with a thick southern accent.  
“Put ‘em down gently boys. Don’t go spillin’ it all over. Did y’all grab the string from the pantry?”  
Eric’s stomach growled again. That popcorn looked delicious and he was so hungry. Maybe he could sneak off and find the kitchen while they were distracted with the tree trimming.  
But he still wasn’t sure how many Egos there actually were and he didn’t want to get caught.  
He’d wait.  
Ladders were brought out by two more Google lookalikes wearing red and green and several dozen light sets were untangled and strung up around the room and down the various hallways.  
Eric hoped they wouldn’t do the upstairs until tomorrow when he’d be safely hidden in his own room and not perched here in the open.  
More lights were brought out and checked. Bing and King each took an end and started wrapping the tree, carefully avoiding the family home nestled in its branches and heading towards the top, Bing blathering almost nonstop about how “These lights are so sick dude!” and “Like, this tree is gonna be our sickest ever!”  
The doctor came back in, looking over a clipboard and staring at the tree with concern.  
“What is it, Doc?” Wil asked walking up.  
The doc frowned. “It’s those squirrels, Wil. They’re disease carriers. I’m sorry, but.... we’re dying.”  
Eric’s breath caught. Was that true? Was he infected? And the others? Were they all going to die like his brothers had?  
But instead of panic, the Egos all started laughing.  
“Sure, doc.”  
“Whatever, man.”  
“My people are more hygienic than you any day, Iplier.”  
“Statistics do state that squirrels are carriers for multiple diseases including rabies and salmonella.”  
“Shut up, Google. No one asked.”  
“Statistics are not mutated based on the likelihood of the question being asked.”  
“Shut up anyway.”  
“Make me, human.”  
“Not even a miracle could make you a human, you mechanized menace.”  
Eric frowned. Why were they making light of this?! People dying was no joke, he’d seen it firsthand and he still had nightmares and probably always would.  
“Listen Doc,” Wil said, stepping over to look at the clipboard. “We’ve told you a thousand times that this quirk of yours about everyone dying’s got to stop.”  
“But the test results don’t....”  
“Doc, we’re all dyin’. Sooner or later. Yours is gonna be sooner if ya don’t shut up, ya hear me?”  
The doctor swallowed. “Maybe I should run more tests before publicly announcing the results.”  
“Good idea.”  
Eric breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently there were many different sides to all these people and he would need to learn them all if he wanted to avoid trouble.  
But at least he wasn’t dying from squirrel disease.  
He hoped.  
The doctor left and the others went back to stringing the lights and unpacking ornaments.  
It wasn’t long before Bing jumped off the ladder where he had been working at the top of the tree, did a neat tuck and roll and bounced up, exclaiming proudly; “Ok dudes!! Lights are done!”  
There was a round of applause from some of the Egos as everyone picked the style of ornament they wanted to hang first.  
Eric leaned out further, eagerly watching the tree take on its holiday form. Ornament after ornament was placed. Back, front, sides, top to bottom, all were covered in glistening, shining orbs and shimmering lines of tinsel.  
He wanted to go running down the stairs and help, to grab an armful of baubles and pitch in. But he knew better.  
The weird looks he’d receive, the talk behind his back, total strangers glaring at him as he intruded on their tradition.  
And then the ornaments would break. Not for any reason, just randomly shatter by being in Eric’s possession.  
“You break everything you touch, boy!” Derek had screamed at him after one particular incident had left Eric with a fractured wrist and a badly broken bicycle.  
“Your brothers were kind enough to give you that and this is what you do?!”  
“B-But the c-chain broke, Dad. I di-did-didn’t mean to.”  
“That damn bike was fine when Merek had it and you have it for an hour and it breaks?? Who’s gonna pay for your damn hospital bills? Not your lazy little ass. Get in the car!”  
Eric gasped, the pain from that memory fresh in his mind. He did break everything he touched. Or he killed it. One way or the other, he dared not venture down these stairs.  
But he loved Christmas! He loved everything about it. The lights and the food and the decorating and the baking and the tree especially. The tree was his most favorite of all.  
All he wanted was to be happy. To run down those stairs, no doubts or self loathing in his mind, laugh and joke with the people he’d come to know as family and not worry about every word he said or every move he made being wrong or awkward.  
He didn’t even know what a real smile that came from happiness felt like. He’d been training for salesmanship so long that his smiles were empty and fake and they hurt him because they were so pointless.  
But no one ever noticed.  
No one ever asked after taping a commercial if he was ok or would he like to talk.  
He guessed he had gotten too good at hiding what he was feeling or maybe no one cared enough, but inside, he was dying.  
He looked down at the handkerchief clenched in his right hand, the only thing he’d ever had that hadn’t died or been broken at some point. The only constant in his life that he could turn to.  
He just wanted to celebrate Christmas. That was all. “Is that so much to ask?” he said quietly, throat tight with barely contained tears.  
The Derekson household had never celebrated any holiday, but Christmas was especially off the list. Derek believed that Christmas was a “waste of hard earned money for unabashed commercialism.”  
Eric knew that truly meant, “I make the money and you ain’t spending it.”And so Christmas was forbidden every year. No lights , no presents, no tree.  
But every year since he was old enough to do so, Eric had snuck as many catalogs as he could find lying about in people’s trash and flipped through them repeatedly, staring at the beautiful pictures in awe and imagining having a house and a family and everything bright and warm and inviting with garlands and holly and tiny little packages with bows on them all around the living room and music playing softly while he sipped cocoa and waited for Christmas morning to finally arrive.  
He had made a fort in his room out of bedsheets when he was eight and spent hours cutting out and taping pictures of fireplaces and window scenes and trees all around the sides so he could pretend his house was decorated and beautiful. It had been a terrifying moment when his door creaked open and he saw a shadow play on the side of his fort. He had sat frozen and trembling, waiting for his father to find him out, tear down his hard work and probably beat him senseless. Eric had whimpered when the sheets were pulled aside to reveal his mother’s smiling face. “What are you up to, little one?”  
“I-I wanted Christmas.”  
His mother sat down beside him and pulled him close. “You know your father won’t approve, my little Eric.”  
“I know, mama. I’m sorry.”  
“Don’t apologize, my darling. I never said he had to know.” She had kissed the top of his head and whispered, “I love Christmas too, sweet one. Don’t ever be afraid of what you love.”  
Another tear ran down Eric’s cheek. That had been one of the only times in his life when he had felt.... happy.  
He remembered asking, only in his mind, for the same thing every year until he got old enough to know better; “Santa, please let me have a family that’s just like me and who loves Christmas.”  
As he grew up, that plea had changed to “please just let me out,” and after the accident it was, “please let me have a family again.”  
Staring at the half decorated tree below, Eric felt his chest go tight and his heartbeat starting to race. Why had he been so stupid?  
He had screwed everything up. All because he wanted a real live tree for his mother the year he turned twelve:  
*It was snowing and Eric had spent most of the day screwing up his courage to do what he was about to do. Quietly putting on his winter jacket and boots, he snuck out the door, keeping an eye out for any of his brothers and headed off down the street. Stopping at every house, he rummaged through bins and dumpsters, finding little pieces here and there of what he’d need. Deciding he’d gotten a reasonable amount of materials, he headed home to put together his surprise. Opening the front door, he stuck his head in and quietly called out; “Mama? Dad? Guys?” But no one answered. Good. Derek was most likely at the warehouse, restocking bins and most of his brothers were probably helping him get ready for the busy holiday buying spree and his mother should have been out on her weekly shopping trip. Dragging his treasures into the living room, he set about finding string and various oddities to use as decorations. Lashing together the trimmed branches no one wanted, he slowly made a passable tree. Taking an old hubcap he had found, he stuck the base of the “tree” into it and covered it with a bright red blanket from the closet to make a skirt, stringing together some of his mother’s buttons from her sewing kit to make a garland and crafted little round ornaments from aluminum foil, tying them off with more string to hang them by. Finally, he drew the best star he could and quickly colored it in, cutting a matching shape out of cardboard and gluing the two pieces together. Standing on his tiptoes, hands shaking, Eric balanced his creation on the top branches of his tree and stood back. It was beautiful! The door creaked open and his mother appeared, armload of groceries forgotten as she caught sight of Eric’s masterpiece. How her eyes shone! “Oh, little one!” She has gasped. “Did you do this? For me?” Eric nodded, too scared and excited for words. “Darling, it’s wonderful. Thank you.” She set the groceries down and grabbed Eric in a hug, squeezing him tight and crying as she spoke, “Merry Christmas, my little Eric.” She pulled away and looked at him, eyes still full of tears. “But we have to take it down now before your father sees. He....” The door opened and Derek walked in, face flushing red as he noticed the forbidden tree in his living room. “What the hell is that?!” He roared, several of Eric’s brothers now standing behind him, faces a mixture of shock and terror. “I-I-I-...” Eric stuttered. “Damn it, boy, speak up! What the living hell is that thing?” Eric knew he had screwed up. Why had he done it? Why? “It’s our t-tr-tree, Dad.” Derek stared at him. “There will be no tree in this house. You know better. Larek, take it out and burn it. Now!” Eric sobbed. All his hard work, his mother’s pride in what he’d done, burned? “Dad pl-please. It did-didn’t cost a thing. Can’t we ke-keep it?” “That ain’t the point!” Derek yelled. “The point is I don’t allow it and you disobeyed!” Grabbing the tree, he threw it out into the front yard where it landed in the snow, silver balls and buttons flying everywhere. “Burn that god damn tree, boys, NOW! Eric, get your butt over here!”*  
Eric gasped, pulling himself back from that horrible memory. Sweat dropped off his face, mixing with the tears already on his cheeks.  
Derek had locked him in the woodshed for two days for his mistake and when Eric had finally gotten out, his mother had rushed him to the hospital with pneumonia.  
It had taken him months to recover and when he did, his lungs were never the same and his severe asthma had followed not long after.  
His mother had been quieter than usual after that day and Eric had disposed of everything he had that reminded him of Christmas as soon as he was strong enough.  
But he still loved it and he wanted so desperately to go and join in but he wouldn’t. He’d stay here and watch and wish.  
More Egos had entered the room while Eric was preoccupied and one particularly caught his eye. Wearing a tan trench coat, he had dark hair with a blond streak and some sort of bloody bandage covering his eyes.  
He seemed to be talking constantly but Eric couldn’t tell what he was saying.  
He looked terrifying but the others seemed to pay him little attention, except for Bing who was happily wrapping the blind man in a string of gold tinsel.  
“The Host does not take kindly to this form of merriment.” the trenchcoated man said, speaking loudly enough for Eric to actually hear.  
“Don’t be such a Scrooge, man! ‘Tis the season and all that.” Bing replied.  
Eric wrung his handkerchief. How did they act so calm? These people were so different and abnormal and they treated each other like nothing was wrong.  
“An interesting bunch, to say the least.” A voice said right beside him.  
Eric jumped, whimpering and pressing up against the banister.  
“I’m not going to hurt you, Eric. No one here will.”  
Eric glanced up at the man standing on the step beside him and quickly looked back down, his breathing going into overdrive.  
He had seen the man before, when Eric had first found himself at the house, standing at the back of the room, watching him and the others but saying nothing. He had been scary enough at a distance, but he was absolutely terrifying up close.  
“There’s no need to fear me, Eric.” The man said, voice deep and echoing.  
“How are you settling in?”  
Eric rocked back and forth, squeezing the yellow handkerchief hoping for some sort of miracle. He wanted to get away and he was cornered. His chest hurt. He couldn’t breathe and the last thing he wanted to do was break down in front of someone but here he was.  
The man took a step down so he was on the same step Eric was and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Breathe, you need to calm down.”  
His hand was ice cold but there was a gentleness to it that made Eric flinch for no reason. He didn’t deserve kindness. He was weak. He was a fool for showing his failings like this.  
“I’m not like your father, Eric. Far from it.” His voice was distant and Eric wished the rest of him was too.  
“Pl-please.... just go. Just... leave...” Eric finally blurted out.  
The man stared down at him and then to Eric’s surprise, he laughed. Deep and barely more than a chuckle, but it was there.  
“You don’t know who I am, do you?”  
“No. N-no. I know you...you’re one of the E-Egos like those others down t-t-th-there.” His stutter making it harder and harder to talk.  
The man laughed again, ending in a sort of growl. “Indeed. I suppose I am. Although,” he paused and Eric felt his eyes looking over him. “I’m a little different than they are, in a few assorted ways.”  
What did he want? Eric hadn’t asked for company and the man wasn’t asking him questions, so... why didn’t he leave?  
Eric continued rocking, hands never stopping on the cloth, but he was slowly calming down. He had wanted someone to talk to, someone to notice him but this was a bit much. Maybe a smile from across the room or something, not this.  
“Do... do you want me to leave?” He asked quietly, not looking up.  
There was silence for a few moments and then the man spoke, “Look at me, Eric.”  
Knowing a command when he heard one, Eric slowly raised his head enough that he could see the face of the man beside him.  
His skin was gray and lifeless looking, his eyes cold and brown. There seemed to be a aura around him that Eric found odd, he flickered, seeming to be present and yet somewhere else. A faint red and blue light cast itself around him.  
He should have been terrified, but looking at him, Eric felt himself relax, just a little, and his panic slowly subsided.  
The man never blinked. Just stared at him with those cold eyes. “There, you see?” He said finally. “I knew you could do it.”  
He sat down beside Eric on the step, the latter pulling away instinctively.  
“Were you enjoying our traditional battle of the tree?” He asked.  
Eric nodded. “Y-yes. I-I was. I’m so-sorry.”  
“Did I say it was a error on your part?” The other asked pointedly.  
“No, sir.”  
“Then why are you apologizing?”  
“Because it-it’s just usually a good idea.” Eric admitted.  
“Why is that?”  
“Because I’m a... a, uh. A screwup. I br-break things and bad things just sort of... happen.... around me.”  
The other man cocked his head, “That’s strange. I’ve been watching you for quite some time now and I’ve not noticed a single thing go wrong. Do you disagree?”  
Eric stopped, thinking. It was true that nothing had happened on the stairs, exactly, but the Christmas ornaments had ended up broken. Was that because of him?  
“The ineptitude of our young Bing has nothing to do with your proximity, Eric. He’s been incapable of the most trivial tasks since I met him, long before you.”  
Eric blinked. How had the man known he was thinking of the ornaments?  
“He seems n-nice.” Eric said.  
A smirk. “He is most.... amiable, though tolerable is another matter.”  
They both went silent, Eric trying to stay calm enough to ask his next question.  
“My name is Darkiplier, but you may address me as Dark if you so choose. All the others do.”  
“How did... you...?”  
“I know a great many things, Eric. As leader of the Egos, it benefits me greatly to have an open line into the whole of Ego HQ. You included.”  
“Me?”  
Yes, you. You are an Ego, are you not?”  
Eric didn’t know. He wasn’t even sure what an “Ego” truly was. All those men downstairs looked alike somewhat and they looked like him, sort of and so he supposed he was whatever they were.  
“I guess I am?”  
“If you are going to reside in this household, I would highly recommend you not guess so much and begin believing in who you are. You’ll find there’s not much room for self doubt here.”  
Eric’s feelings stung. Those words felt like a reprimand against his anxiety and they hurt.  
“I’m sorry.” He mumbled into his chest.  
Dark stared at him. “You aren’t in trouble, Eric. I was simply offering advice. We are all quite strong personalities here and I want you to fit in.”  
Turning his head away so Dark couldn’t see, he watched the others as silent tears ran down his face.  
“That won’t ever happen. I can’t fit in. No one wants me, I’m not worth your time. Please, just.... just leave me be. Please?”  
He could feel Dark staring at him. He wished he’d stop, it was uncomfortable and awkward and Eric just wanted to hide somewhere and never come out.  
“Your father really did brainwash you into believing you’re nothing, didn’t he?” Dark said after a few moments of silence. “Now I must say it is my turn to apologize, Eric.”  
“Why do you... why.... what do you... um... what do you mean?”  
“I mean simply for the treatment your father gave to you. The things you’ve endured your whole life. You’ve done nothing to deserve such an existence and yet here we are.  
For that, I am sorry.”  
More tears ran down his face as he still refused to look towards Dark.  
Someone was sorry not because of him but because of what he’d been through? That thought amazed him.  
“It’s ok to be scared, Eric. I’m not saying you can’t be. My.... counterparts and I can take some getting used to.”  
Eric sniffled. “I don’t want to be like this. I want to be like them.” He pointed to the crowd below.  
“You will be.” Dark said softly. “In time.”  
Eric glanced over, trying not to turn his head. Dark was sitting perfectly straight, hands folded on his lap, staring down at the Egos fighting over who got to string up the first strand of popcorn while King snuck small kernels into the branches for his recovering family.  
“Why don’t you let me do the talking and you listen? Will that be more appeasing to you?”  
“Yeah. Yes. Sure. I-I guess.” Eric squeaked, wondering what there was to talk about. He wanted to be alone. More than anything.  
“To begin with, your father has no place here amongst us. He may unfortunately be considered an “Ego” but he will never be a member of my household. The fact that he bears the same resemblance as all of us is a trivial matter that I will deal with later. Someone will know of the dire mistake he has made in creating this problem, I assure you. It is long overdue for us to have a ‘chat’ as it is.”  
Dark growled those last words and paused for a breath. Eric didn’t know what all that had just meant, but clearly there was something deeper going on here than what showed on the surface and Dark didn’t want him involved and that was fine with him.  
“Secondly, you are not a failure. Do you understand me?”  
Throat tight, Eric fought the urge to argue and  
concentrated instead on his handkerchief.  
Dark noticed. “Your mother made that for you, did she not?”  
Eric nodded, eyes brimming with tears and a painful memory clutching at his chest.  
“She made it for you for prom. Your brother’s hand me down suit and tie were an embarrassment for her, weren’t they, Eric? She wanted you to have something nice. Something of your own.”  
“Sh-she tore up her only dinner dress to make it for... for me.” He sniffled again. “Then everything got.... ruined.”  
Dark rolled his shoulders, pain and irritation masking his features for a moment. “Your brothers were waiting for you, weren’t they? At the school?”  
“Y-ye-yes. It was rainy and... and... and muddy. It wasn’t their fault. I always.... screw up.”  
“They ambushed you, Eric. They shoved you down the steps and ruined your only suit. How is that your fault? How did you screw anything up? Tell me.”  
“Because I’m... I’m clumsy. I should have paid attention.”  
Dark growled. “It would not have mattered. What I am trying to make you see, Eric, is that you are not the failure. The people and environments surrounding you is what failed.  
You do not kill or break everything you touch. Most of the things that have gone wrong was due in large part to your brothers. How could you have killed your dog when you yourself were not invited and were not even on the bus that fateful day? Were it not for your brothers, there would have been no fireworks in your barn. You were a witness, Eric. Not a factor.”  
Eric sobbed. How did this strange man know all this? Why wouldn’t he leave him alone? He didn’t want to think about all his bad memories.  
On cue, Dark said softly; “You’ve already been thinking about them, Eric. I’m only trying to help ease your heartache.”  
Panic and frustration welled up in Eric’s chest. He felt trapped and used and attacked. “NO! I don’t wa-want you in my-my-my head! Go away! Just please! Leave!”  
He sobbed again.  
Dark laid his hand on Eric’s shoulder. It was cool and strong and Eric suddenly doubted that this was a man accustomed to kindness.  
“You begged for years for a family, one just like you that would not judge or condemn you for your presence. You wanted a family that loved Christmas. Look down there and tell me what you see?”  
Eric shook his head. “I don’t want to. I’m tired.... I -I want to go to my room.”  
Dark smirked. “No, you want more than anything to join in and help them. But you’re scared. You’re petrified that you’ll ruin everything. I can assure you, you will not. If a man like Wilford Warfstache can decorate a tree, then you, Eric, can do anything.”  
Eric felt a tiny glimmer of something like hope. Was that true? “Re-really? He seems so...so... confident.”  
“He is quite confident and that I fear is his downfall. This year is mild, I must say. Most years  
he uses up at least one box of my finest ornaments for target practice.”  
“He packs all those beautiful.... those ornaments outside?”  
“Of course not. Wilford has no qualms about doing whatever he wants in this house.”  
Eric stared at Dark, stunned. “He shoots.... a-a-a gun... in the house?”  
“Indeed he does. It’s nothing new. And also,” he added, standing up. “Don’t question anything Wil does. Accept it and walk away. You’ll live longer.”  
Dark put his hands behind his back, standing military style on the step.  
“This house, this tree, these rooms are yours, Eric. No one is going to take that away from you. You may not have reached that conclusion yet, but you are home.  
There is not a soul here who will lay a hand on you in violence or anger. There may come days where you find yourself in a fight or in an argument, but I assure you, they do it only as your family and friends. There is no ill intention and should that ever change, I will be notified immediately and the situation dealt with.”  
“I wish that was true.” Eric whispered.  
Dark turned to face him. “You doubt my word?”  
Eric flinched from Dark’s tone. “I... no... no! It’s... just that... well....” he trailed off, whining.  
“What?”  
“People have... said.... they’ve uh.... said that they’d help me. Like before. And they....”  
“Lied to you?” Dark asked.  
Eric nodded. “Mmm hmm. All the... all the time. No one ever, actually, followed through.”  
“You may hear stories in the coming days,” Dark said. “About how I am a liar and a manipulative bastard and while they may hold true in certain situations and instances, I promise you that this is not one of them.”  
Eric squeezed the yellow cloth, feeling it’s softness between his fingers, comforting and familiar. All this was too much and he wanted to feel excited and accepted but he held back.  
“You seem different than the.... the others down...” he pointed to the first floor.  
Dark chuckled. “I am quite different, I think you’ll find. In more ways than one.”  
“And you... you don’t think.... I won’t... they...?”  
“They’ve accepted new Egos before and you will be no different. As for you breaking anything? Your anxiety and lack of any measurable self esteem is your biggest component in the accidents that seem to happen around you. In time, I think you will see that you are less and less clumsy and haphazard.”  
“Do you have, animals, here?”  
Dark nodded. “We do. You have already seen King’s subjects and I myself own a dog. If you choose to call her that.”  
“I don’t want to hurt them.”  
“King keeps a very close eye on his squirrels and I am quite certain that you could not hurt the latter if you tried.”  
Eric looked up. “Your dog?”  
“Like me,” Dark said with a small smile. “She is not what she seems.”  
“Can... can I... pet... her?”  
“If she agrees at some point, then you may.”  
“Oh...” Eric’s face fell.  
“She rules her own life and judges you worthy or not, but I am sure she will find you more than adequate as a lesser being.”  
What did that mean, Eric wondered. Nothing made sense any more and this whole conversation had turned extremely weird.  
“I simply meant, that she will probably appreciate the attention.” Dark countered, seeing Eric’s reaction.  
“I-I’d like that.... I think.” Eric said quietly. “Nothing bad, will... will... happen?”  
Dark shook his head. “Nothing.”  
Eric looked down at the others still busy with the tree and wished he could just disappear. He didn’t know how to get out of this conversation and worse, he still didn’t know where his room was.  
“Your quarters are on the third floor, fourth door on the right. And the kitchen, is down there,” Dark pointed to the door across from them on the bottom floor. “And to the left.”  
He took another step down. “Would you like something to eat and to meet the others, Eric?”  
This was it and Eric was still terrified. But he was so hungry and so wanted to join in on Christmas for the first time in his life.  
Dark held out a hand to help him up. “Don’t ever be afraid of the things you love, Eric.”  
Eric looked up at him, eyes filling with tears. “How?”  
“As I said, an open line. Your mother loved you very much, Eric. More than anything. And she loved your creations and your imagination and your very being. She wished only for you to find the place you’d wished for. A place of peace. A place of family. A place of happiness. It broke her heart every day to know that your kind deed for her at Christmas had resulted in your illness.  
She blamed herself. Never you.”  
Eric didn’t fight the tears now streaming down his face. “I thought... she... hated me...after that. She would-wouldn’t even look at... me. We stopped... talking. She stopped talking... to everyone.”  
Dark dropped his head. “She was ashamed. You were the light of her life and she had been forced to watch that light be darkened over the years by the mental and physical trauma you suffered.  
She begged your father for hours to let you out of that shed, screaming and pleading for your punishment to end, but your father wouldn’t have it.  
You would have died in there had it not been for your mother sneaking out to break the lock. She risked the wrath of your father for you, Eric. And her life suffered for it. As much as it may hurt you to know, she lived out her days in torment for her act of rebellion.”  
Dark’s voice was soft, filled with sadness. “She didn’t dare step out of line for fear your father would do you greater harm. That’s why she closed herself off. She thought you’d be safer that way.”  
Eric put his head in his hands. His poor mother and he’d been too scared to even talk to her about it. “I never knew.”  
“Of course not. You were a boy, her son. It was her job to protect you. She did.... until her dying day.”  
“I wish I could... fix... some-something. Instead of just... breaking it.”  
Dark cocked his head. “You are fixing it. You’re here. You’re fulfilling what your mother always wished for and making your life better. Come with me, Eric and make your mother proud.”  
Could it be that simple? Was his mother actually happy he had found himself on these people, the Ego’s, doorstep?  
Breathing heavily, Eric looked at Dark, hand still extended and then downstairs to where his potential family were arguing over a good place to hang the wreath and whether or not it would include squirrels.  
Chest tight, mind filled with doubt, Eric took the outstretched hand and stood up, muscles protesting after so many hours on those steps and wiped the tears away from his cheeks.  
The words his mother had spoken so long ago came drifting back to him.  
“There’s only room in the world for one of you, my little one. Don’t be scared if you never find people just like you, instead, celebrate your differences and soar. You will find your place, my sweet Eric and when you do, you’ll know you are home.”  
Hand on his shoulder, Dark led him downstairs and immediately all heads turned to stare at their leader and the new Ego who some had met, some had not.  
“Egos.” Dark spoke, commanding the attention of the whole room. “This, for those of you who do not know, is Eric Derekson. I expect you to treat him with the utmost respect and give him the space he so desires. Do I make myself clear?”  
There were looks between the gathered Egos but everyone seemed to know better than to question Dark’s commands.  
All except Wilford, who stepped forward, slapping Dark on the back. Eric flinched, scared of the retribution for such an act but Dark only cracked his neck and sighed.  
“Got yourself a jumpy one, eh Dark?” Wil asked, laughing. ”That’s odd, for an Ego.”  
“I’m aware, Wilford, that he is not like most, as is he and neither one of us needs the reminder from you. Now shut up, before I rip your hand off and feed it to you.”  
Eric pulled away but Wil laughed again. “Touchy in your old age, Dark?”  
Bing poked his head out from the back of the gathered crowd and smiled. “An Ego with no ego. That’s like.... different, man.”  
“I-uh. I... know that I’m... not like you and you can... hate me. It’s ok. I’m used to it.” Eric said, his stutter worse than usual from nerves.  
“Aw, Darky.” Wil crooned. “Look at him. He’s got anxiety.”  
“Thank you Wilford. I noticed.”  
“I think he’s adorable!” Bing said, bouncing up and grabbing Eric’s hand. Eric jumped, ready to pull away and run, but he told himself to calm down. These were his.... people now. He needed to get to know them.  
Dark cleared his throat and the room fell silent. “Eric, allow me to introduce you to the current occupants of Ego HQ: Bing you already know, along with Wil, King, Doctor Iplier, Bim Trimmer and Google Blue. But may I also introduce; The Host, Google Red, Green and Yellow, Ed Edgar,” he said pointing to the man in the hat and sunglasses, “And Silver Shepherd and Yandereplier are also around here somewhere. Plus there are quite a few others I believe will be along shortly. You’ll meet them in due time.”  
Eric felt overwhelmed. There were so many people and they all stared at him, with his eyes, his facial features, his build and even his mannerisms to an extent.  
“You’ll get to know us all, dude!” Bing said happily. “It’s gonna be like, so awesome!”  
King walked up, approaching Eric slowly with a small baby squirrel in his hands. Eric stepped back, heart pounding, terrified that the innocent creature would spontaneously combust in his presence.  
“It’s alright,” Dark assured him. “Remember what I told you.”  
King held his hands out. “Would you like to meet my people?”  
Eric looked from the squirrel, to Dark, to King and back again, eyes wide in terror.  
“It’s ok. He won’t bite.” King urged.  
Hand shaking, Eric reached out and stroked the soft, brown head, closing his eyes for the impending death. But nothing happened, instead all the Egos broke into applause and cheers of congratulations. Eric smiled for real for the first time in a long time as King let the baby climb from his hands onto Eric’s shoulder.  
“Dude! Dude! Ya gotta help me finish the tree, man! These losers are like, screwing everything up!” Bing grabbed Eric’s arm and led him over to the tree where a few ornaments still remained to be hung.  
“You do like Christmas, right, man?”  
Eric stared at the tree, lights twinkling, tinsel shining in the late afternoon sun. All those memories resurfaced and his heart hurt once more. Dark walked up, carrying a small ball of foil, hanger made crudely from a tied off piece of string, holding it out for Eric to take.  
Eric looked at it and realized that maybe he really was home. They hadn’t judged him, they hadn’t hated him and it had been at least 30 minutes and nothing had broken or caught on fire or died. He was standing next to people who wanted him around, a tree that was more beautiful than anything he could have dreamed of and was currently carrying the most precious of cargo on his shoulders.  
Taking the ornament from Dark with tears once again in his eyes, he said almost confidently, “Yes, Mr. Bing.... I think I’m going to love Christmas.”


End file.
